


Seas Between Us

by sirius



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirius/pseuds/sirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was written in 2008 and includes explicit sexual content.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Seas Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in 2008 and includes explicit sexual content.

Yamapi comes back to his apartment, having spent the Countdown dress rehearsal wearing feathers and sequins and singing about flying to high with NEWS. He comes home and doesn't understand how it is that what he comes home to is crazier than what he's left behind. 

Jin is sitting at the breakfast bar, slouching over a beer bottle. He's intently fixated on Ryo, who is doing the washing up. At first, Yamapi doesn't see what the big deal is, and then as he walks into the room it hits him like a cold shower.

“Why,” he begins, wondering if he wants to know. “Is Ryo doing the washing up naked?”

“If we ever go to war,” Ryo says darkly, through suds, “Make Jin the prison guard. The evil prison guard who has to come up with ways to torment prisoners.”

Jin laughs around the beer bottle. Yamapi can't decide which one of them to look at, Jin fellating his bottle, Ryo all naked and, let's face it, hot even doing the washing up. He takes up his seat next to Jin and they share the beer, both appreciative of Ryo's domestic aptitude.

“I hate you both,” Ryo says, looking at them both in the window's reflection. “Why isn't Yamapi being punished? We both lost that bet.”

Jin considers this, sliding the bottle away from Yamapi's mouth and up to his own. “His arse isn't as nice as yours,” he says, eventually. 

Everybody says that Ryo is the nasty one, but Jin has an incredible knack for turning compliments into insults and vice versa. Despite himself, Ryo is impressed. Yamapi, meanwhile, is hitting Jin in the shoulder, and beer is going everywhere. That's a bit less than impressive. Luckily, Ryo is done, so he throws in the towel and walks over to them, takes the bottle away.

“You're both idiots,” he says. “I'm going to get dressed. And then somebody is going to order food, because I don't care if you both suck me off tonight, I'm not fucking cooking.”

“Hang on,” Jin calls out, head mashed between Yamapi's elbow and armpit, a perfectly executed headlock. “You forgot to clean up the beer.”

Ryo grits his teeth and a thousand insults immediately land on his tongue, but he swallows them down, grabs a cloth and rubs down the counter. When he's done, he throws the cloth in Jin's face and stalks out. 

 

The biggest mistake is letting Yamapi and Jin order food. When it arrives, it could feed the entire population of France. They use up too much everything, Yamapi and Jin. They eat too much and drink too much, they always leave the lights on, they use up all the hot water. They once played the same game on two different consoles at the same time just because they fight over whose turn it is. They're indulgent and wasteful and totally stupid, but they're Yamapi and Jin and Ryo wouldn't change them.

In bed, they fight like cats over Ryo. That's why he wouldn't change them. Jin spends most of his waking life insulting Ryo, but at night, when his mouth is jarring with Yamapi's for a taste of Ryo – well, it says more than words ever could. 

Losing the bet hasn't been that bad, Ryo muses, as he watches the pair of them eat, fighting over duck and sticky Hoisin sauce. Jin isn't as ruthless as Ryo might have been. He's made Ryo do the washing up and his laundry, and he's asked him to bring him coffee in bed every morning but that's about it. He hasn't asked him to do any of the cooking, or bring him his slippers, or wash his hair or rub his feet or any number of humiliating tasks that Ryo might have set, in Jin's place. Either Jin is too dumb to understand the concept of payback, or he's up to something. Ryo knows that Jin is good at payback. That worries him.

“So. The week ends tomorrow,” he says, munching prawn toast. “I am free from the bonds that constrain me.”

“Kinky,” Jin says, sucking his fingertips and looking hungrily at Yamapi's, too. “Yep, you're free tomorrow.”

“This hasn't been that bad,” Ryo ventures. “I'm surprised. Are you feeling festive?”

“Nope,” Jin says, smirking, but he reveals nothing, except: “Just, the best is yet to come.”

That definitely worries him. 

“You know what he's going to ask, don't you,” Ryo says, nudging Yamapi. Yamapi's mouth is full of food and so he uses that to remain silent, hamster-like. His eyes give him away. 

“I hate you both,” Ryo says. “In the new year, I'm getting a girlfriend.”

“Is that what you're spending your Christmas bonus on?” Jin says, leaning back on his hands and laying down the gauntlet.

Yamapi looks from one to the other, cheeks puffed out, eyes wide. 

Ryo stares at Jin, deadpan, for a few seconds, and then he dives on him. 

 

Ryo and Yamapi wash up the plates later, because Jin is in the living room, practicing _Seishun Amigo_ and watching the news. It's a disturbing combination and Yamapi seeks solace in the kitchen.

“Tell me what he's going to ask,” Ryo says. “I'll give you 1,000Yen.”

“Not for 1,000Yen,” Yamapi says, mildly. “I won't divulge my secret and betray my confidant for less than 10,000Yen.” 

Ryo looks at him. “Is that it? Never become a kidnapper.”

Yamapi laughs, good-naturedly, flicking soap in Ryo's direction. “I won't tell you. Not for anything. He'll tell you in good time. Just listen to him, alright? He talks a lot of crap but he looks up to you.”

“As he should,” Ryo says, grandly. “I'm a role model for our time.”

“You were doing the washing up, naked, because you lost a bet and shagged your best friend's best friend, who's doing him as well. That's not role model stuff.”

“Sure it is,” Ryo says, idly, stroking bubbles onto Yamapi's cheek. “My generosity is well-known. There's plenty of me to go around. Sharing is caring.”

“Some politician's been caught getting a blowjob in a taxi,” Jin says, coming through to the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Ryo says. “Is that news?”

“Second time in a month,” Jin says, eyeing Yamapi's face.

Ryo looks between Yamapi and Jin and their mouths and their fighting over him and their _fuck, shouldn't be hot_ -ness and says, “I know how he feels.”

 

“I heard that you and Ryo have been out three times this week,” Kame says, conversationally. Jin looks up at him and wonders whether he's chiding, or whether he wants an invite. But Kame isn't doing either, he's smiling, and Junno's falling asleep on him. Not for the first time in the last six months, Jin feels utterly a part of his band again. 

“If I had a face like Jin's, I'd drink, too,” Jun says. He's not chiding or wanting an invite anywhere except Punch In The Face-ville, and Jin turns around with a twitching eyebrow.

Matsumoto Jun is _everywhere_ , that's the problem with Countdown. Normally, Jin loves the big Johnny's get-togethers. It's like being a Junior again. Like having fun with a whole hoard of friends. Only it means that Matsumoto-fucking-Jun is every-fucking-where and he's not about to let Jin get away without a few jibes.

“I thought you'd stopped e-mailing him,” Kame says, and now he is chiding.

“I _did_ ,” Jin says, irritably. “Only I saw this great joke online last week and I thought he'd enjoy it.”

Kame looks at him, nonplussed. “What joke?”

“Well,” Jin says. “I kind of uploaded Cartman from South Park singing a song. And then I kind of e-mailed him, asking if it was Arashi's new single.”

“Oh,” Kame says. “ _Jin_.”

“So I didn't exactly...see it online so much as-”

“It's not our new single,” Jun interrupts. “Is what I replied. However, I've a feeling that Cartman strikes a chord with Jin. Aesthetically, anyway.”

“I'm going to fucking kill-”

“If Cartman was in KAT-TUN,” Junno says, sleepily, woken up with all the noise. “Would we have to rename ourselves CART-TUN?”

 

Kame tells Ryo about it later, and Ryo laughs. A lot. And that makes Kame laugh, too. 

It doesn't, however, make Jin laugh.

“I'm going to kill him,” Jin says, conversationally, as the wardrobe mistress yanks Ryo's shirt around a bit. “I'm not really,” he adds, for her benefit. “I'm just going to talk about doing so. Painfully. Lots of pain.”

“That sounds hilarious when you're standing there looking like a star threw up on you,” Ryo says. “Er, in a nice way,” he adds, for the wardrobe mistress' benefit. She looks up at him and shrugs, as if she's used to it. The business of dressing grown men in sequins must be a weird one. 

“Yeah, well,” Jin says, toeing the ground until she's done. “He's pissing me off.”

“What's new, pussycat,” Ryo says, loosening his shirt a little. “Fuck, I think we pissed her off. I feel like I'm strapped into this thing.”

“I decided what I want you to do for me,” Jin says, leaning over and adjusting Ryo's collar, to make them look a little more innocent than they will in a second, when he says everything that he wants to say. 

“Oh?” Ryo asks, shrugging shoulders. “Dare I even-”

Final call is announced, and before Jin's got a moment to open his mouth, the area fills up with people, a blurry haze of colour and light, and he and Ryo look at each as the arena begins to roar. And suddenly, Ryo thinks that he's got an idea, what it was that Jin was about to say.

 

The order of performances isn't kind to them, and Ryo and Jin don't get a minute together in the gaps between. The first chance they get a moment alone is when they're waiting to go on, when they're waiting to do _Seishun Amigo_ and Yamapi and Kame are almost at the point when Ryo leans over and says in Jin's ear, “you want us two to fuck, don't you?”

The sound of the crowd and the speakers, the speakers that make their voices sound like gods – they make Ryo's voice so small and so hushed, but the words have more clout than a thousand songs. Jin is rigid, glued to the spot, and he looks at Ryo, caught off-guard. And then he nods, because what else can you say to that. Ryo's never been this good at guessing games. What if Yamapi-

“It was written on your face,” Ryo says, his lips brushing Jin's earlobe. “Like it is now. You want me, don't you?”

Jin shoves at him with his shoulder, but the darkness in his eyes tells a different story. 

“We can,” Ryo says. 

The familiar beat of the music is up, and Jin takes his first step towards the stage. “Just because I asked?” he says, as Ryo leads them both out. 

“No,” Ryo says. “Because I thought you never would.”

Jin is flustered, and he forgets the first part of the routine. It's unlike him and Yamapi is in front, luckily, or he'd have been concerned about it. Ryo corrects it, easy as that, he's used to it with Yamapi. And seeing Jin laugh about it, and seeing the crowd cheering because he's Jin and he's laughing – that's the greatest thing in the world. 

They put their hands together, the three of them, a holy trinity of stupidity and struggling and sex. And in that moment, in a weird way, Ryo doesn't want anything to change. It will, he knows that it will. But more than anything, he wishes that it wouldn't. 

 

Yamapi keeps out of their way when they get home, because he knows what's up and he's cool with it, mostly because he's too tired to focus on anything but the sound of the television in the background as he dozes. There's some drama on and it's soothing, just to lie on the sofa and feel the weight dropping out of his bones. He loves performing, they all do, but afterwards he needs to ride out the come-down. 

Despite himself, he wonders how it's all going. Jin was nervous when he asked Yamapi about it, the fact that he did ask was proof enough that Jin was feeling unlike himself. Jin and Ryo are as close as Yamapi and Jin, but they don't have the same easy goofiness that allows Jin to feel that he can make mistakes. Around Ryo, Jin is confrontational and competitive and he wants to be the best, he wants to be in charge. It's a problem, because Ryo is exactly the same. 

It's easier for Yamapi and Ryo, because they share a band. They share the exhaustion and the jubilation and the everything-in-between. Ryo and Jin, whenever they see one another, set about their snarking and their oneupmanship, and sometimes Ryo doesn't see the vulnerability in Jin the way that Yamapi sees it, because Yamapi has known Jin forever and he knows what to look for. Sometimes Jin doesn't see the vulnerability in Ryo, but that's because Ryo knows how to hide it. They're more similar than they both realise.

It's quiet upstairs, which isn't usually a good thing. Their apartment is many things, but it's rarely quiet.

 

They take off their clothes quietly. Part of the problem with having sex after concerts, Ryo is realising, is that you're coming down from a natural high. With every minute, you feel less and less exhilarated, less and less on top of the world – and Ryo's shyness is kicking in. Jin is very, very quiet and it seems to Ryo that he's feeling the same thing. 

Jin is lying on the bed, on his back. Ryo climbs up and lies beside him, wondering if it's conversation he's after, until Jin looks at him with bafflement and Ryo realises that it's not that. Jin's trying to make a point of positioning himself, of readying himself. He's trying to pull rank, only he's placed Ryo on top. That's both interesting and scary.

“Okay,” Ryo says. He wants to say _shall we get on with it_ , but it sounds awful, and he doesn't know why it's all so hard. He and Jin have been close for years. He's slept beside Jin a hundred times. He's fucked Jin, always through Yamapi, but still. This isn't new. This shouldn't be as frightening as this. So he screws up his courage and he climbs over Jin's leg and lies there, face to face with him, so that they can try some experimental kissing, and that's when he realises that Jin is just slightly trembling.

He ignores it, for the most part, because, well, kissing. The kissing is good, rich and true and _them_ , but when he draws back the world is the same. He feels a weight of responsibility. What if he's no good? What if it doesn't work, and the trio gets messed up, and things are awkward, and-

Jin is touching himself, with one hand on his cock and the other hand massaging a pulse point in the back of Ryo's neck. His eyes are locked on to Ryo's, and Ryo suddenly realises that it doesn't matter, they'll just go with it, they'll just go. That's what they do. Like dogs, chasing down the wind. 

He's still relieved, though, when he hears the voice in the doorway, so familiar and so good. 

“He wants you to touch him,” Yamapi says. “You should touch him, Ryo.”

 

Ryo touches him. Gently knocks his hand away, can't resist a little quip, a little bit of, “here, is that the best you can do,” and begins to stroke him. Jin pushes up into the gap between them, his neck elongating and his eyes going dark, and that's where the ego is, right there. Ryo's shyness vanishes in a heartbeat. Watching Jin jerk his hips into Ryo's hand, that's not a thing that could leave anybody feeling insecure.

Yamapi climbs up onto the bed, but he doesn't take off his clothes. He lies down on one side, head propped up by his hand, and he watches. He's far enough away that he's not intruding, close enough to relax Jin and Ryo, his best mates, his little sinful triangle. 

And Jin is gasping, first he's gasping Yamapi's name, which makes Ryo want to smack him until Yamapi asks, “what?” and Jin just says, in a faltered way Ryo will remember forever, “Ryo's fucking better at this than you,” and then Yamapi smacks him instead. And Jin grins, that's where his ego is. It's a challenge. It's a connection. 

“Stop,” Yamapi says, to Ryo, who taking a look at Yamapi's face, wickedly does so. Jin lets out a hoarse whine of Yamapi's name, to which Yamapi is reasonably unsympathetic. 

“Prep him,” Yamapi says. “But don't let him get too into it. He gets really into it. You're a slut, Jin, you know that?”

“Fuck off,” Jin says, grinning, starting to touch himself again. “I am not.”

Ryo takes his wrist and pins it to the pillow with his free hand. “Yes, you are,” he says. “Move your legs apart, slut.”

And Jin does so, because he's not in an advantageous position, and even being insulted does little to cool his ardor. Jin's sexuality is convenient like that. 

He wriggles against Ryo's fingers, then says, “I think I could do this better,” to get a rise out of Ryo, to try and strike him up against something rough and let him ignite. “Harder, faster.” 

Ryo just digs his nails into Jin's wrist, and then Jin moans, and Yamapi says, sadly, “No, he just likes that. He has no Kryptonite. He's indestructible.”

“Fuck,” Ryo says, looking down at Jin, who looks smug and horny and ready. “Like fuck he does.” And he takes away his fingers, and his hand, and he lies down between Jin's legs, and he pushes inside him – and because it's unexpected (Yamapi always asks), and because it's uninvited (Jin always breathes _yes_ ), Jin cries out and swears, all at once. 

“I fucking hate him,” he says to Yamapi, his head leaning back on the pillow, his jaw slack. Ryo's chin is buried in the space between Jin's neck and his shoulder, he wants to bite down, but Jin has collarbone issues and he wants to save the screaming for later. 

Yamapi looks down at them, Jin all undone and angry and horny, and Ryo all smug and domineering and needy, and he thinks that he's never seen anything so hot in all his life. He's seen it before, but only through the sort of eyes that cloud the picture. The sort of eyes that are blurry from all the sex, all of the images and the touching. He's never seen it this clearly before. Never seen Jin's legs wrapped so tightly around Ryo's back, never seen Ryo's black hair falling onto Jin's pale skin. Never seen Jin's wet mouth so open and so inviting, or Ryo's fists curled so tight and so hard in on themselves. 

“He's ready,” he says, to Ryo, his voice a crooked stutter. “Fuck him.”

Ryo looks over, his hair at the front beginning to drip, and he does. And he does, and he does, and he does. And the sounds are clear, and new, Jin's voice like a bell, an undulating moan wrapped around a hard, staccato gunshot. Ryo's voice, deeper and darker and rough with exertion and pleasure. Jin's arms wrap around Ryo's back as he pushes up against him, for leverage and for closeness, and Ryo mouthes Jin's neck, his shoulders, his jaw.

Yamapi realises, then, that this is something he'll never see when it's the three of them because it's all in the nuances, the nuances that orgasms deny you from seeing. The look in Ryo's eyes as he looks at Jin, all uncoiled and speechless and filled to the brim with pure hedonism. The abandonment in Jin's face as he trusts and trusts and trusts. The pair of them do know how to share vulnerability, after all. 

 

Leaning down, Ryo can hear Jin's breath, like a roar of thunder, louder than the speakers. They push and shove together with no rhythm whatsoever, just pleasure, Jin tilting his hips up for the right angle and Ryo moving hard, fast, now, please, yes. With a ragged hand, Ryo wraps fingers around Jin's cock so that Jin can swing his hips between two orbits of the same pleasure, and his consideration is rewarded with thick, moaning gratitude. 

“Ryo,” Jin is saying. “Ryo, Ryo, Ryo-” like a pulse, like a heartbeat, like the thrumming of a pinprick of blood. And Ryo finds himself the echo, the “Jin, Jin, Jin”, and with Jin's arms around him, and with the end in sight, with a few, “I can't last, Jin, fuck, I can't-”s, he swipes his tongue in a straight line from Jin's breastbone up Jin's neck. Up Jin's tilted jaw, up onto his chin, up onto his mouth, and he kisses him so hard it's like a punch because he does it in the moment, the very second, that he comes. His entire body shakes through to the lips on Jin's lips, and all of the shout that would have gone into the orgasm goes into the kiss. 

And in the middle of the kiss, one of the hands leaves Ryo's back, reaches out and clutches Yamapi's hand, hard enough to hurt. And Jin's mouth changes its dimensions, a sound comes out, rich and deep and the pinnacle of everything, the point at which he feels he's going to burst with feeling. He pushes forward one last time and holds it there, and he cries out and out and out, into the kiss, into this, into everything that's the two of them. 

 

There's a long period of silence, punctuated only with hard, heavy breathing. Yamapi sits speechless, stroking Jin's fingers. Ryo lies against Jin for a long time, his eyes closed. Jin opens his eyes eventually, as if it's a struggle. He looks at Yamapi and they exchange smiles, a thousand words condensed into the upward quirk of lips.

“What are you doing,” Ryo says, eyes still closed. “I can hear you both.”

“I'm hungry,” Jin says. “Isn't it about time you put dinner on?”

Ryo pokes him in the neck. “It's past midnight. I'm not doing anything. The week is over.”

“Fuck,” Yamapi says. “Happy 2008.”

Ryo opens his eyes, then, looking at the three of them tangled up in the bed. “Well,” he says. “I think I started the year as I meant to go on.”

Pleased, Jin stretches. “I agree,” he says, low and husky.

“I didn't mean you,” Ryo says. “I mean, being the best shag in the whole of Tokyo. That's all I meant.”

“Go and put dinner on,” Yamapi says, lazily. “Domestic goddess.”

“Fuck off,” Ryo says, but he eventually uncoils himself, all the same. “What do you want?”

“Anything,” Jin says. “Food is good. Just food.”

Ryo grumbles, searching around on the floor for his clothes. There's some sort of monster that lives in the apartment, mixing up their stuff. Most of it seems to end up in Jin's wardrobe. It's a funny thing, that.

Yamapi moves over to Jin, taking up the space Ryo leaves behind. “We're like dogs, aren't we.”

“Yep,” Jin says. “In that case, maybe the band should be called DOG-TUN.”

“Aw,” Ryo says, pulling on his boxers and trying to find a t-shirt. “Don't talk about Ueda like that.”

 

_To: Akanishi Jin  
From: Matsumoto Jun_

_Found anyone to kiss you into 2008, yet?_

_To: Matsumoto Jun  
From: Akanishi Jin_

_Two people, actually. Why, you offering?_

_To: Akanishi Jin  
From: Matsumoto Jun_

_Slut._

_To: Matsumoto Jun  
From: Akanishi Jin_

_That doesn't answer the question._

_To: Akanishi Jin  
From: Matsumoto Jun_

_No, it doesn't, does it?_


End file.
